


Test Subject T-S01 & The Unfortunate Events That Followed Him

by Sporkkles142



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Blind Character, Blind Virgil, Blood and Injury, Body Horror, Broken Bones, Electrocution, Fighting, Gen, Guns, Heavy Angst, Human Experimentation, Human/Snake Hybrids, Hurt No Comfort, Manhandling, Muzzles, Nothing Sexual, Panic Attacks, Poisoning, Problematic ngl, Restraints, Serious Injuries, Shooting Guns, Swearing, Torture, Vomiting, Whump, beatings, its all about that angst bout that angst no trouble, questionable science, request fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-09
Updated: 2019-10-24
Packaged: 2020-08-13 18:41:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20178916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sporkkles142/pseuds/Sporkkles142
Summary: Nobody was writing the angsty torture shit fic I wanted so I did it myself.(Pay attention to the tags, they are there for a reason and I go into detail, so if you're sensitive to this kind of thing I recommend looking elsewhere for your angst.)





	1. Angst Party

**Author's Note:**

> Character Guide:  
C-R2d = Roman  
L-L3e = Logan  
M-P6rt = Patton  
A-V1 = Virgil  
D-De3 = Deceit  
C-R1d = Remus  
S-Ro4 = Remy  
T-S01 = Thomas (but he's handwaved)  
Emile = Emile Picani

C-R2d's head slammed against the hard concrete floor as he was shoved into the cell. He felt the skin split on his forehead, plunging his skull into fiery pain. His arms were tied against his back, almost too tight. He managed to push himself off the floor and into a sitting position. The burning pain in his forehead didn't help things, and neither did the blood blinding him, but it didn't seem too serious an injury. The ties encircling his wrists were cinched way too tight, the cold floor chilling him straight through his paper-thin clothes. If only he cooperated, they said, this wouldn't happen.

* * *

L-L3e was exhausted. Blood dribbled out of his nose as the cracked bone throbbed under his skin. Cuts and bruises littered his body, decorating it in a much more bloody way than his tattoos. His hands were restrained behind him, his feet below, and a strap forced his head forward despite his aching neck begging to get the strain off. He had been trapped there for days. 

The man stood there, observing him. 

"Fascinating." 

L-L3e watched with tired eyes as the man lifted the hammer again, his shallow breath the only noise as he pulled it up in anticipation. The man carefully looked over his body for something unbroken. He decided on L-L3e's left hand. The man strapped it down. L-L3e let him. Putting up a fight was a fruitless effort. It would only deny him necessities. The man swung down. Hard. L-L3e felt the bones crack, and the pain erupted again. He barely let out a whimper. 

* * *

M-P6rt could feel the dull burn of his empty stomach as he choked up nothing. The nausea assaulted his body, eyes watering as he dry-heaved. The woman with the clipboard scribbled a few notes and watched on as M-P6rt struggled to stop coughing. Sweat dripped into his eyes as his forehead burned. M-P6rt could do nothing but choke on oxygen and struggle to stay conscious. 

His skinny legs burned with the effort of supporting him, and he collapsed onto his side. He choked up some spit, but that didn't satisfy the nausea, only exacerbating it as his vision started to blur. 

He could hear the click of heels as the woman approached him, clipboard in hand. He could barely see, and the headache blasting through his head didn't help him concentrate. He coughed one last time. M-P6rt felt a hand shaking him. He heard a voice shouting something, then nothing. He submitted to unconsciousness.

* * *

A-V1 was curled up as best he could with the chain pulling his arm up. He didn't want to. He really didn't. But that didn't matter to them. He felt a hand pulling on the chain forcefully. He must've taken too long to stand up, because he received a harsh slap to the face and a yelled order in a language he didn't understand anymore. He stumbled, unable to see where he was going, the sting still fresh on his face. 

How long had it been since he was taken here? He really didn't remember. He didn't remember a lot if things. He didn't remember his own name, he didn't remember how to talk, he didn't remember his life before this. But I guess that's what they wanted. 

He was forced to fall onto his knees and hands, the chain cutting unpleasantly into his wrist and the rough floor scraping his knees. He felt someone pull off his thin shirt, and stick something onto his back. The electric shock pulsed through his body. 

* * *

D-De3 sat in his dark cell. Blood leaked from his nose as he concentrated on the image of that one wild-haired subject he'd seen getting led away. Remy, his name was, and D-De3 remembered the situation quite well. The man was yelling and fighting against the guards, but he was sedated quickly and, D-De3 knew he would be tortured into submitting, like they always did. He did.

He wiped the blood from his nose, though it hardly mattered. He was already coated in other dried liquids, what difference did it make to add to that? He couldn't remember the last time he was clean anyway. 

D-De3 heard the pounding footsteps before they opened the door. 

"Get up!" He remained sitting. "I said get up you useless testie!" 

D-De3 ignored him. He was quite used to threats. 

"Hey, you're the one with the fancy scales huh? The lab's gonna have fun with you today." 

This scared him. He backed up, scooting away from the two guards, ready to fight. 

"Aw, poor little testie. We ain't got time for this, come on!" The guards approached him. 

It had been ages since he last spoke, but he had too. Maybe he could make them listen.

"N-no-" he croaked out, raising his arms defensively, but then were instead grabbed by the guards. They dragged him up, not hesitating to bruise him along the way. 

* * *

Remus's fists swung fiercely from the moment he was taken. He rebelled against them at every turn, trying desperately not to give them what they wanted. He wouldn't answer to the stupid code name they gave him, he wouldn't address them, and when he did he called them Dr. and Dr. Asshole. He was impossible to work with, and he liked it that way. He wouldn't give in. 

They couldn't kill him, so they strung him up in the most painful way they could, muzzled him, restrained him, tried their very best to break him, but they couldn't do it. He wouldn't be broken. He wouldn't be beaten down by them like so many before him. 

Remus simply wouldn't.


	2. Deceit gets angst slapped yo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> D-De3 gets taken to the lab.

D-De3 tried to put up a bit of a fight, throwing his feeble fists at the guards, but they merely chuckled and kicked at him, knocking him over.  
D-De3 wheezed, struggling to push himself back up as the guards laughed.

"Now, come on, testie. We got work to do." The guards pulled him out of his cell and into the blinding light of the hallway.

  
"I swear, we should put a collar on these things. It'd make it easier to drag them around." One guard remarked, shoving D-De3 in front of them.

"I know," the other responded, "If I wanted to babysit I'd've just stayed home today."

* * *

The table was cold. It was very cold, chilling D-De3 to the core as he was pushed down onto it. The attendants strapped down his arms and legs, securing them almost too tightly. He didn't understand why at first, he could barely put up a fight even if he wasn't freezing.

"Oh, look at you." The doctor pulled on some gloves and prodded D-De3's scaled cheek. The touch caused him to pull back as far from her as he could, panic clearly showing in his eyes.

"Oh, dearie, there's no need for that. I'll take good care of you," The doctor smoothed her hair back.

"That's the snake one, right?" An attendant asked, eyeing his face suspiciously.

"Yes, Dewit. Obviously," The doctor retorted. "Alright, dearie, now, let's look at these scales." She rolled up one of D-De3's sleeves, revealing a pattern of yellow-ish scales trailing up his arm.

"Oh ho ho!" She picked a magnifying glass and held it up to his arm, peering through it fiercely.  
D-De3 was never so scared in his life. His scales were a precious thing to him, and to think what someone could do to them frightened him more than anything.

"Please...stop..." It was only two words. His throat felt as if it were on fire with the effort of speaking, but this seemed to impress the doctor.

"So you can still talk! Amazing! You know, most of the others gave up on that when we shocked them out of it. I don't suppose we tried this on you?" She never once addressed what he had said, and started touching his scales, irritating the skin around them.

"P-please-" D-De3 tried again, adjusting his arm slightly to try and dissuade her. It didn't work.

"Oh, I guess this means we'll have to silence you for the surgery. Oh well," She finally pulled away from his irritated arm and instead circled around to the large computer monitor.  
D-De3 pulled against the restraints weakly. He knew it was pointless.

The doctor glanced up at the attendant, who procured a muzzle.  
D-De3 panicked at the sight, straining against the straps and croaking out words.

"No-please-don't-please I-"

The muzzle slid over his head, cutting off the rest of his begging. D-De3 teared up, choking as the stifling mask dredged up bad memories.

"Now, keep its head down. Strap it or something."  


He couldn't see over the mask, but he felt hands holding down his head as something was slipped over his neck and cinched tight.

Tears had gathered in D-De3's eyes, threatening to spill over.

He could barely hear what the doctor was saying over the static filling his ears.

Imagine having your skin ripped away from your body, unable to do anything about it as it peeled away like an orange, leaving nothing but muscle and bone behind.

That's what D-De3 experienced.

Mind-numbing pain blasted through his cheek as the doctor pulled at the sensitive material, desperate to part it from its host. D-De3 wanted it to stop, he wanted to scream, to cry out in agony but he only squeezed his eyes shut, trying hard not to let the tears fall.

"Pesky lil' bugger, ain't it?" The doctor remarked, giving D-De3 a moment of relief as she switched to another tool.  
The pain returned as the scale started to cave into her tugging and pulling on it. D-De3 could tell it had started bleeding as a warm liquid traveled down his face. He squinted up at the light above him through his tears.

The scale gave way, opening up a bleeding gash on his cheek, and that's when he couldn't hold them back anymore. They slid out of his eyes, collecting grime and blood as they made their way onto the operation table.

"We did it! Get Strubhard to begin the examination. Who knows what this thing's genetics are!" The doctor waved the bloody scale in triumph before setting it on a metal platter. The attendant nodded before leaving, clipboard in hand.

The doctor swiveled back around to face D-De3.  
"Aw, don't cry now, dearie. We've got a lot more to do with you," She smirked, and lifted the tweezers again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !!T i m e t o u p d a t e t h e t a g s!!
> 
> I had this idea where Deceit gets his scales pried off so here's a graphic depiction of that!! :)  
I swear I'm having a mental breakdown  
If you want me to torture a specific cinnamon roll don't be afraid to ask I'm down
> 
> Please forgive me


	3. Virgil doesn't deserve this (Part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Virgil remembers.

A-V1 didn't remember what purple is.

He sat alone in his cell, not sure if he was facing the front or the back or the sides, the chain wrapped around his wrist annoyingly present and distracting. It's not like there was much to be distracted from anyway, though.  
All he experienced was dark, shouting, pain and pulling, but sometimes, when they weren't doing any of that, he remembered something.

He wasn't sure of what it was, but the memory always pulled him away and made him forget of what was happening around him. He was grateful for the memory.

It goes a little like this.

It's...bright...  
Brighter than anything he knows, but maybe he did know it once.  
There's a little...thing. It's wide flaps are colored in vibrant shades A-V1 doesn't remember the names of, but it's still pretty. It's got long thin stalks growing out of the top of its head, and its flying around, landing on big wide flaps that smell nice, or so he thinks.

  
It's happy.

  
It's nice.

  
He hears a word, one he doesn't understand, but he'll never forget it, not as long as he lives.

"Virgil!"

  
A woman says.

  
And it's over.

A-V1 doesn't remember what a mother is.  
He doesn't remember what a family is.  
He doesn't remember what love is.

He feels the chain cut into his wrist.

A-V1 doesn't remember what purple is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> K I know this isn't exactly brutally injuring our lad but I want to get this part out first so y'all can understand a bit of his (arguably unnecessary) backstory  
Sorry it's pretty short oop-
> 
> Consider it torturing your feels instead
> 
> Anyway imma angst it up in Part 2


	4. Virgil doesn't deserve this (Part 2: Electric Boogaloo)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Virgil gets angst slapped
> 
> Requested by CaraPerden

A man shouted, kicking the door open.  
He was loud. It hurt A-V1's ears.

  
He tried to scramble away but that hideous chain dragged him forward. He cowered as best he could, holding his hands up as a sign of submission.  
The man said something again, and yanked on the chain, pulling A-V1 out of the cell and onto the cold linoleum floor.  
A-V1 fell to his knees on the floor, instantly chilling them. Tears welled up in his gray eyes as the man shouted more, yanking hard on the chain and cutting A-V1's wrist. A-V1 stood as fast as he could, tears welling in his gray eyes. The man stopped shouting and began leading him.

He was going too fast, and A-V1 stumbled a lot, the cold floor nipping at his bare feet, but he tried to stay upright as best he could.  
The man was saying something.  
A-V1 didn't understand him.

  
Suddenly he was pushed back, sending him crashing into to a wall and the chain slicing his wrist as it was pulled in the opposite direction.  
A-V1 slid down the wall into a sitting position, shocked and in pain, as his back started to bruise from the impact.  
He heard someone say something.

Then a comforting hand on his shoulder. He focused on that hand, knowing it could very well turn hostile at any moment, but it never did.  
He heard the hands owner say something. Something to him. What did he say? A-V1 swore he knew. He knew didn't he-

  
"Virgil?"

  
The name! The name he heard! It...someone said it. He raised his head, not knowing where the person standing over him was.  
"Virgil? -- ---- ---- Virgil?"  
Again. They said it twice. What did they say? Remember. Remember come on.  
"-- --------- -- Virgil. - ----- ----- ------- ------ -- --," The voice said. What did they say. What.

"-------- - ----- ---- --- ------." Someone else.

"...- ------." The person.  
The hand left his shoulder. He was sad. It was warm when the rest of him was cold.

* * *

The chain was distracting. Incredible pain flowed through A-V1's ribs and chest as another foot landed on it. He was pretty sure he had several broken bones, and too many bruises to count.

His nose dripped blood, his joints ached with the effort of curling in on himself so hard, and he was pretty sure he choked up what was left in his stomach after one bad hit.  
He didn't know when it started, all he knew was the pain and the chain. The chain. Focus on the chain.

A shout and a kick to the face, worsening the nosebleed. The chain dug into his cut-up wrist. A kick to the back. Another bruise.  
Why couldn't he just die already? He'd like to. At least then he wouldn't be subjected to this all the time.

A blow to his stomach again. The chain tugged at the wrist. His eyes leaked tears.

Dying can't be worse than this. Blow to the face. Another bruise. Another broken bone.

Another day. Another wretched day. Another awful day.

A-V1 wondered if he'd ever have a good day again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm
> 
> so sorry this took so long and that it's kind of short? I swear I'll write longer chapters in the future.  
Long story short I'm back and will be updating this more often
> 
> Next up: Roman angst
> 
> Feel free to request which cinnamon roll you want me to torture in the comments (or ideas with with to inflict upon them)
> 
> Please forgive me


	5. Roman I'm so sorry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roman is K. O.ed
> 
> Requested by Everyheroneedsavillian

C-R2d pried at the steel door to his cell, trying in vain to pull it open. The gash on his forehead stung as sweat ran into it, and his bruised arms burned with the effort, but he didn't give up. He mother didn't raise a quitter.  
He scratched and banged at the door, causing a warden to bang back with the added, "Keep it down in there!" As was customary, but that didn't stop C-R2d.  
He turned around and slammed the door as hard as he could, probably bruising his shoulder, but he could care less. He just needed that door to open, and sure enough it did.

"What did I say-" the warden cracked it open, and C-R2d made a break for it.<strike></strike>

His hand slammed the warden's nose, knocking him onto his back, and pushed the door open as he slid out quickly.

"HEY! GET BACK HERE, YA FUCKING TESTIE!" The warden shouted, waving his fist in the air.  
C-R2d didn't wait around for him, but smirked silently at the blood trickling out of the wardens nose.

He dashed through the hallways, bare feet slamming on the cold tiled floor. He did it! He was escaping!  
Of course, it didn't last long as the alarms blared on. Emergency lights flicked on and off as guards and wardens flooded the floors of the facility.

C-R2d skidded to a halt as guards surrounded him, tasers in hand and restraints pocketed.

"Stop right there!" One shouted over the alarms.

C-R2d opted instead to dart past him as clock him in the ear and hitting another in the back of the knees on his way past.  
Tasers pinged behind him but he jumped out of their way and kept going.  
He was gonna get out.  
He had to.

The doctor was wiping down her needles when the alarms went off.

"Oh? One of them escaped?" She asked to no one. She leaned out the doorway to observe the hall.

Her radio clicked.

"This is Marshall. The subject got past Lewis and Phoebe. Lookout on hallway 78. Subject should be caught and returned to cell. Over."

She clicked it on.

"Marshall, this is Dr. Diene, please capture the subject and bring him to my lab. Over."

C-R2d didn't know where to go. The alarms blared loudly in his ears and the collective shouts of the guards in the hallway disoriented him. He stepped back from them, only to find more right behind him.  
There was nowhere to go.  
Well almost no where.

The door to his left was slightly cracked.

"Stop!" A guard shouted, but his choice was made.  
C-R2d slipped inside the door, bullets ricocheteing off the wall behind him.  
There, in the middle of the room, was a man strapped to a table. He seemed to be unconscious, and bleeding heavily from several cuts across his body. Many of his bones looked broken, and from the hammer lying on a table near him C-R2d suspected they were.  
Instantly he ran up to the man, trying and failing to free him from his bonds.

"STOP RIGHT THERE!" A guard burst in through the door after him, gun pointed straight at his head.  
C-R2d threw himself over the other man, shielding him from any potential bullets.

"Put you hands above your head and step away from the other subject." The guard instructed.

"N-no!" C-R2d croaked out, still shielding the man protectivley.

"DO IT NOW OR I'LL SHOOT HIM TOO!" The guard aimed at C-R2d, bloodlust in their eyes.

C-R2d slowly moved to put his hands over his head, but a gunshot echoed throughout the room as the guard pulled the trigger.

* * *

The gunshot reverberated across the room. The man protecting him crumpled as the bullet pierced him, straight chest shot to the heart.

It was hard to watch.

The guard hesitated, but what for L-L3e couldn't tell. He could hear thundering footsteps outside the room, and screwed his eyes shut, not wanting to witness any more violence if he could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)  
  
Requests are still open!


	6. Logan time (back from hiatus!!)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Logan finally gets a break (but it still hurts)
> 
> Requested by: AngstIsADrug

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoop whoop got motivation again!!

It was agonizing, waiting to be tortured.

L-L3e blinked slowly, the time unknown and unwanted. He didn't know why or what he had done to deserve this. He couldn't remember. But he did know one thing. Well, a few things.

1: There are other people here, other similar people who can't seem to die.

2: This place is inhumane. Very inhumane.

3: He was going to suffer, for something he didn't even know about.

4: He hates the Doctor.

5: He hurts.

And 6: He's never going to get out.

This mental list flashed through his brain, but it did nothing to quell his building terror.

He swivelled his eyes down to the floor, too dehydrated to cry.

The door handle jiggled, and with it, the usual panic and then dissociation emerged.  
He couldn't even cry out.  
Couldn't shake them off when they finally let him out of the chair.  
Couldn't fight them as they shoved him to the floor, making him land on his bruised and (previously broken) forearms. He couldn't even cry out then, when the pain felt like a million glass shards stabbing into his upper body as they dragged him, trailing blood and sweat and gore down the crisp clean hallways of the place.

* * *

The water was ice on his skin, but he gratefully lapped it up like a dog. Finally, finally he could feel the cold wet his parched throat and chase away all the blood and grime on his body. The guards stood by and laughed, but he didn't care. It was water. He was clean.

* * *

Bruises and cuts, sores and infected scratches littered his body, his poor thin body. They strapped him down again, but what for he didn't understand. He couldn't even stand on his own feet.   
The Doctor didn't bother putting him under.

* * *

The bandages felt scratchy and suffocating. He was sore. So very sore and tired and hurt and he just wanted to sleep. His stiff muscles burned with every movement, his eyes somehow found tears to cry as they pricked him with every needle they could.

Finally, finally, with an empty stomach, aching bones, burning head, and bandaged wounds he collapsed, collapsed back into his cell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :,)  
Ow
> 
> Requests are open!!


End file.
